territory. They considered the Colonial Show an opportunity to demonstrate the might of Germany to the human exhibits. The British had done much the same thing in the 1880s, when they organised a tour of Britain for Cetshwayo, the exiled King of the Zulus, whose forces had defeated a British army at the battle of Isandlwana. British colonial officials had taken Cetshwayo to the Woolwich Arsenal to see guns being forged and to the seaports of southern England where the ships of the Royal Navy stretched out to sea for miles. For the same reasons, the leaders and future leaders of Germany’s potentially rebellious tribes were taken on specially arranged tours of Berlin, a city described by a visitor as one ‘massive barrack’ in which the air, said another, ‘stinks of [gun] powder’.
But as the ‘natives’ brought to Berlin were from the local elites, they also tended to be from the most Westernised sections of the colonial populations. They were often from families who had been in contact with Europeans for decades, who had skilfully exploited those contacts to establish their position. Most had long been exposed to the missionaries and some were devout Christians who wore European dress. Many of them had little to do with the indigenous cultures they were now expected to enact in Treptow Park. At least one group had to be shown how to construct the traditional huts they were to live in. Another, that included members of the dominant family from the Dula peoples of Cameroon, were utterly unwilling to perform any of the supposedly traditional ceremonies that the organisers assured them were essential aspects of their own culture. It was, however, the contingent from German South-West Africa who challenged official expectations most profoundly.
Even before they had left the colony, a clash of wills between the German organisers and the South-West Africans had begun. The Herero and Witbooi Nama refused even to embark for Germany until a formal contract had been signed with Governor Theodor Leutwein. When they finally arrived at Hamburg, it was clear that the racial expectations of the German public and the proud independence of the South-West Africans were completely at odds. Most of the Herero and all of the Witbooi men wore European-style military uniforms, bandoliers and side arms. The Witbooi wore hats with the characteristic white bandanas. Those in civilian clothes wore European suits, revealing that they were just as ‘fashion-conscious’ as the people of Berlin. The women wore bodiced dresses with puffed sleeves and fashionable floral patterns. They were evidently not the ‘pieces of natural savagery’ described in the official report.
Friedrich Maharero, the son of Samuel Maharero and grandson of Chief Tjamuaha, was particularly well attired, in a fashionable black felt blazer, crisp white shirt and colourful silk bowtie. Like the other Herero he was tall, young and strikingly handsome. Yet it was not merely the clothes of the South-West Africans that shocked the organisers: the decision to recruit only from the local elites meant that the ‘exhibits’ were educated and accustomed to being treated with respect. Petrus Jod, the nephew of Hendrik Witbooi, was a particularly profound challenge to German racial expectations: he was a schoolteacher who spoke eloquent High Dutch and carried a copy of the Bible at all times.
When the Herero and Nama arrived in Berlin, officials demanded they abandon their Western clothes and dress in more ‘genuine’ attire. They were especially disturbed by the fact that the South-West Africans and many of the Cameroonian men wore trousers, which they believed would undermine the authenticity of the entire Colonial Show. When German ethnographers supplied them with ‘authentic’ African clothes, they refused to wear them. The devout Petrus Jod argued that it would be against his Christian beliefs to wear what he called ‘heathen clothing’. As thespread of the Gospels was